


Burner Phone

by Army C (arh581958)



Series: #GallavichWeek [10]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternative Season 7 Ending, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Day 3 - Alternative S7 Ending, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts, GW2017A, Gallavich Week, Gallavich Week 2017, Hurt, Longing, M/M, Phone Calls, Post-Canon Fix-It, long distance love, open-ended
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 20:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11043690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arh581958/pseuds/Army%20C
Summary: In which the phone's the only thing tying him to Mickey, and Ian refuses to let it go. The story looks through Season 7 Episode 12 in Ian's perspective with a little twist. Add a dash of hurt!Ian, missing Mickey, and surprises just around the corner.





	Burner Phone

**Author's Note:**

> Written for: Gallavich Week 2017 A Day 3 - Alternative S7 Ending
> 
> I apologize for not finishing Day 2 yet. _This_ was supposed to be day two, but it ended up more of a season 7 fix-it of sorts rather than "times when Ian and Mickey had each other's backs". Hence, I opted to post if for Day 3 instead. I'll finish Day 2 in a bit. It should be up before this day is over. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy this.

Ian kept the phone. He doesn’t know why he did. It’s the second one—the one from beneath the high school bleachers not the one he dropped in the drain. He doesn’t all Mickey with it. He _can’t_. Mickey threw his burner phone away. It’s not like Ian’s seen it but he knows the Milkovich boy enough to just _know_ that Mickey ditched it the same day he crossed to Mexico.

The phone—the one left with Ian—is the last thing Ian’s got of Mickey.

So, he keeps it.

Ian shoves the thing in at the bottom of his rucksack and forgets about it for a while.

***

Monica’s death comes as a surprise. She tried it once before, didn’t work. Ian remembers. He remembers it like the burning yesterday. He remembers because he’d gone running to Mickey’s house before really thinking about it. It didn’t occur to him until after—during his sprint to the L—that it was also Mandy’s house. He didn’t even think about her at the time. Mickey was the only person at the time whom he wanted to talk to but Mickey isn’t here now.

Ian drags his feet into the kitchen.

They’re silently berating what to do with Monica—her body, her hospital bill, and her canvass bags full of shit. He keeps his mouth shut. He doesn’t know what exactly to say if Fiona asks him for money to pitch-in for all of Monica’s burial crap. He’ll probably do a double-shift for extra cash.

It’s all so nostalgic.

But, despite everything, Ian feels the loss of Mickey so much more than the death of his absentee mother.

Carl comes back as a cadet corporal. There’s a twinge of jealousy there, of course. Ian’s always thought he’d be the army-man of the family but it’s okay. For a moment, everything’s fucking great. They’re back together—the whole family—and it only took Monica to die to bring the whole family all together again, and that includes estranged grandfather that none of them really know.

They all take turns saying something nice—a rare happy memory not riddled with all the batshit-crazy shit that they’ve experienced over the latter years of Monica’s bipolar drug-addled days.

Trevor’s sitting in the third row looking for all the world like it’s his loss too, even if he only met Monica twice. It’s not the same. Ian’s story is only a part of who Monica is. There’s so much more to her—to his life—that Trevor doesn’t really know. It feels lonely. His heart calls out to someone who _would_ know just how hard it is to live in the Southside of Chicago.

“I guess the motherfucker really did love the crazy bitch,” Fiona tells him.

The next day, Ian goes to a corner store on a whim and buys a charger for the phone but he doesn’t plug it in.

***

Of the four boys that’s crammed into their room, it’s Carl who plugs the damn phone.

“Charged your phone,” Carl says over his shoulder when Ian came home one day. His cooking skill have gone above and beyond eggs on toast since joining the army. He’s on temporary house duty while the rest of them are trying to get their shit together.

Ian stops mid-way into chugging orange juice straight from the jug. “You what?”

“Your phone,” Carl says again, vegetables in the pan. He twists around to look at Ian. “The one in you backpack. Think ya forgot it. It fell out when I was vacuuming our room. So, I thought, what the heck—and charged it.”

Ian figuratively picks his jaw from the floor and nods. “Uh, yeah, thanks.”

“Sure,” Carl shrugs, turning back around. “Dinner’s almost done. You gonna change or what? You kinda fucking stink like shit, man. You fall down in man-sweat or something?”

Ian rolls his eyes. “Nah,” he says, pulling off his boots. “Double-shift. Didn’t take a shower at the station. I—Imma go get one now.” Whatever Carl answers, he doesn’t hear because he’s stomping up the stairs, taking two steps at a time.

The phone sits on the bedside table, blue light blinking. He nearly trips over his own knapsack when he dashes for the it. The bed groans as he collapses on to it. His hands shake. Batteries are full. He unplugs it with a rough tug. It might not even be Mickey. It can be anything or anyone—phone companies send useless shit all the time. That doesn’t reassure him in the slightest.

“C’mon, Ian,” he tells himself loudly, “It’s just a text. Just a text. Just check it.”

**_hey fucker_ **

Fuck.

Ian drops the phone down like it burned him.

Mickey.

Of course, it’s Mickey. Ian’s smartphone has the rest of his contacts. No one knows about _this other phone_ —the one that Mickey gave him. He’s never thought to give the number to anyone else. Only Mickey knows this number.

What comes after, he can’t figure out if it’s butterflies or something sinister because Fiona’s voice calls out from the kitchen calling him to dinner.

He dumps the phone into the drawer, slamming it shut.

***

When Ian finally finds the courage to text the number, months have already passed since Mexico.

He still remembers the day like it was yesterday—the scent of Mickey, the feel of Mickey, the taste of Mickey. He remembers the black flowery dress that Mickey promised never to wear when Mickey came out to Terry. He remembers his stomach falling into a blackhole that’s never quite healed since that day.

_~~I miss you~~ _

_~~I need you~~ _

_~~I’m sorry~~ _

_~~Come back~~ _

_~~Please~~ _

_~~Hey~~ _

_Hi_

Ian settles for easiest one. Two letters. If Mickey still wanted to talk to him at all, Mickey would answer his simple ‘hi’. It’ll probably be something sassy and arrogant and so, so Mickey that Ian would hear Mickey’s voice when he read it.

Nothing.

The battery on it almost dies. It’s a close thing. The red light blinks in warning. Ian feel so frustrated that he wants to throw the damn phone into the wall. He stops at the last minute—because, if he destroys it, he destroys his last link to Mickey.

Instead, he pulls the charger from the bedside drawer and plugs it in.

***

A week passes.

*beep*

Ian startles awake. He’s just finished a three-day shift five hours ago. He hasn’t even been asleep any longer than two. Lip’s snoring loudly near at the top of the bunk. Liam is sleeping like a baby at the bottom bunk. Ian doesn’t know what woke him.

*beep*

The sound churns something low in his gut.

The phone!

Ian twists and turns, scrambling to get the bedside drawer open. He’s kept the phone at charged whenever he can. He doesn’t know when Mickey would text him again—if Mickey would text him again, seeing as he failed to reply to the first one.

**_yo asshole_ **

The message is from two minutes ago. He dials the number without any conscious thought. Half-asleep and severely sleep deprived. It takes him longer than a moment to register that the line’s actually connected. When he does notice, he falls off the bed in a mad rush to be somewhere alone—somewhere private—where he can talk to Mickey.

“Hello?”

“Missed me?”

 _Fuck yes_ , Ian’s mind wants to scream. “Yeah.” He answers breathlessly. “I missed you, Mick.”

There’s a long pause. Then, a rough bark comes. God, he thought he’s heard that last of that sound when they were camping out under the bridge. Mickey’s laughter is a beautiful sound.

“Ya should’ve come with me.”

The bitterness in the tone is expected, but the overwhelming sadness that comes with it breaks Ian’s heart all over again. This Mickey—the one that escaped prison with a misspelled tattoo of his name and left for Mexico—is honest even if it hurts. It’s a Mickey that he could fall in-love with again because he’s always going to fall for Mickey over and over.

Ian has so many words to say but Mickey beats him too it.

“I can’t—I can’t go back,” Mickey tells him. “I’m—I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Ian says because deep down he does. He chose this path. He chose to go back to Chicago instead of leaving with the love of his life. He’s got to learn how to own up to his choice.

“It’s okay,” he says, fighting the crack in his voice. “This is enough.”

It will have to be—at least until he can find away to be together again.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I love your comments. I really do! So, please, if you like it... I hope you can say a little something to me about it. Thank you~ 
> 
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> 
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